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About Literature / Student Kat ErricksonFemale/United States Recent Activity
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SGSelfie by curlscat SGSelfie :iconcurlscat:curlscat 1 3
It is a seizure 
medication, given to you because it also controls
pain, after head trauma.
Side effects include:
weight loss,
diarrhea, nausea, constipation, loss of appetite, stomach pain,
headache (hello, irony),
feeling like your body is not exactly where you left it, even as it continues to do what you tell it to do, or has changed size or shape,
and kidney stones. Drink lots of water while taking this medication.
See your doctor if these side effects continue or are bothersome.
Call your doctor
when you realize that this medicine is emptying you back out inside.
Call the prescribing doctor, the neurologist,
two hours' drive from here, and tell him
this medicine is keeping your head
from pounding off your shoulders and exploding
with the pressure of a little bit of blood
by taking out everything that interests you
just after you got it back.
Stop taking Topamax if you experience suicidal thoughts.
Stop taking the one thing
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 2 2
Today I was assaulted. Today
An old man pressed his lips against my skin
without me asking
without my encouragement
He rubbed my thigh and his lips touched my face--
this man I'd known only two hours
And I did not stop it.
I didn't say no, didn't
move back, didn't
know how,
wanted to,
but as I always do when it is important, I
froze (I am more rabbit
than Kat)
And now I will not
report it, because I am wearing a low cut shirt and shorts; because
and because I did not know who
to call for help
Because I could not force myself to speak
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 2 25
On the possibility that other choices were made
Scientists have posited the theory that our world hates making decisions so much that each time a choice is put forward, the universe splits in two: dividing in perpendicular paths, one in which each option is chosen.
It follows, then, that there are universes out there (multitudes) where we made the choices that saved my father.
There is one in which he never got cancer in the first place. One where my mother let them remove the fungus that actually killed him. One where he listened to me and went to the doctor four months before he actually went. One where I worried enough to make him go anyway. One where we kept him at the same hospital. One where he listened to his own body and didn't need us to tell him to go to the doctor. One where the doctors at the third hospital did their job. One where the doctors at the FIRST hospital did their job. 
There are universes in which one of us was a little faster, a little smarter, a little more on top of things, a little more dedicated, an
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 4 9
These are things that I know:
The smell of cut grass; lilacs; bacon; vanilla; coffee
The sound of my father's voice
The feel of asphalt beneath my feet; feathers against my palm; mud between my toes; pages between my fingers
The taste of a chocolate chip cookie
Sunlight against my skin while my eyes are closed
The dappled light that hits the grass beneath a tree
Green in all its forms
Written words which I can return to time and time again
And the ache of knowing:
there is something I have lost; something I will never touch.
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 5 0
He stops work.
Looks up.
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 16 10
Imaginary Plains
They caged her.
She saw fields.
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 10 6
Surrounded by Mahogany
She hides from him between bookcases.
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 12 6
Dear Death
Hi there.
You've shown up in a lot of media, I don't know if you've noticed. I was just watching a movie about you the other day, actually. You were kind of sweet there, like someone who came to end pain for people in suffering. I'd like to think that's what you're like.
Still, I'm pretty freaking ticked at you, sir. ... Madam. Whichever. I mean, I know it's been almost two years, but you took someone I really cared about, and I wasn't ready for him to go.
Most of the time I'm okay with it, anymore. Most of the time I can say, "My dad's dead," and not even make an awkward pause in the conversation, because usually (almost always) I can pass it off as if it's something in the past, something I've gotten over, and the people I'm talking to take their cues from me.
Other times, though, I still want to break down sobbing, or go out and find you and rip you from limb to limb as if you were a real person, because I want you to hurt like I do. I want you to lose something the way
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 8 12
Rumplestiltskin's Revenge--Name Yourself
Kijani uses his name as a rebellion. The queen may have taken away his mother, his father, even his ability to control his own body, but every time she says "Jon, I have a task for you," even as he does what she commands, he thinks to himself, my name is Kijani. My grandfather was a merchant across the Middling Sea, and when my mother came here, she named me to remember her home. I am Kijani. And someday, I will be free.
Moire embraces her new name. Goldiloks has always been a mouthful, and it's a strange non-name, the kind of thing only royalty would even consider giving their child (because who would dare laugh at a princess?) Moire, though, that's a name for an adventurer. The kind of name you can give yourself. Moire isn't a useless princess who can never be a ruler. Moire isn't a bargaining chip to keep a kingdom safe. Moire isn't responsible for her brother's disappearance. Moire is useful. She can save her brother. She can make everything better. And she is fr
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 0 0
Title suggestions would be nice.
Most days, I see traces
of the Vlad I fell in love with:
Sarcasm Vlad.
Vlad who reads.
Vlad who loves his mother.
Vlad who loves me.
Vlad who sings like it's a Disney movie.
Vlad who thinks machines are beautiful.
What-do-you-MEAN-you've-never-seen-Star-Wars Vlad.
Vlad who is always there for me.
Vlad with the gorgeous eyes.
Vlad who loves politics.
Vlad who will travel the world with me if I ask.
Vlad who thinks sitting on a roof with a box of fruit is a good date.
But it has been a long
time since this
was the Vlad who was around
most often.
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 2 10
A Tutori-Scussion: Love Triangles
So love triangles are a big thing. Writers use them all the time. They're popular, a lot of readers love them, and they're effective.
That doesn't necessarily mean you should use them. See, the problem is that most of the writers who use them are women writing from a female point of view about a girl who is drawn to two different guys. And most of the readers who enjoy these love triangles are also female. Part of this is because the book industry is very much a girl's game.
The thing is, it doesn't allow it to be anything OTHER than a girl's game. I'm not saying boys can't like drama, and I'm not saying all girls do (I personally find the catty kind of soap opera drama to be uninteresting). But what I'm saying is that there are few books out there that are geared for boys, and things like this encourage it.
Love triangles like this work because girls love to be desired. The reader, as an assumed she, will put herself into the mindset of the girl main character, and when this main char
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 4 2
Some Musings on Magical Alt-History
Full title:
some musings on an alternate European and American history in which there has always been working magic which focuses on the manipulation of energies already present in the world,

Curlscat trying to not have a noble savage trope and still salvage a story idea because I love the main character.
When the One True Unified Church of the Holy God took over Caucay, magic pretty much got wiped out there as evil witchcraft and the product of the devil. This church certainly wasn't the only place to think that way-- the followers of Adonai had been exorcising demons from people for millenia before the One True Church even got its holy book together, and they were just the first example to come to mind. Of course, then Mr. Luther came along and found out that a lot of the 'miracles' the priests of the One True Church were working could be explained pretty easy with magic, and after he posted his list of all the problems with the One True Church, all hundred or
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 0 0
Sometimes Rose hears Gwyn crying in the middle of the night, or just rustling around as quietly as possible. She doesn't usually say anything--Gwyn doesn't want her to know. She knows her sister wants her to think she's happy to be adopted here, happy to have seven grandmothers and a sister that she didn't before. But tonight is different. Tonight is Gwyn's birthday.
(Rose doesn't know how her grandmothers knew this, but she accepts it as a fact, and files it into the same part of her brain in which she stores the fact that she doesn't know what happened to her parents; the way her personality changes with each grandmother she lives with; the knowledge that most children have one name, not seven and a nickname-- things she will ask about when she's older. Things Primrose-her doesn't think are important enough to bother about. Things that really bother her when she's Briar.)
So tonight she climbs into Gwyn's bed and gives her sister a hug. "You know I'll always be here for you," she whi
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 0 0
Savior Complex
They'd lost. The girls and their friends were effectively captured, surrounded by enemies in a warehouse with no way out. So they stopped fighting.
The leader* called out, "All right, which one of you is Sabrina Grimm?" He looked around at the silent room and said, "If you give yourself up, girl, we won't kill anyone else."
Without hesitation, Daphne stepped forward out of the crowd and said, "I'm the one you're looking for."
Before her brain had time to process what exactly what was going on, Sabrina had already opened her mouth to scream at her sister, but Puck's hand clapped over her mouth faster than she could make a sound. As she began to struggle, he wrapped his free arm around her arms and waist, effectively securing her.
"Let her save you for once," he hissed, gripping her tighter as she began to struggle.
She tried everything she could think of to get free as Daphne walked to the leader and allowed herself to be tied up and stripped of weapons, magical or otherwi
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 4 21
A Moment Too Short
My favorite poems fill me with longing
to fit myself inside them: a crocus 
wrapped in March 
fog by a riverbank.
:iconcurlscat:curlscat 3 0

Random Favourites

Fire With an Aftertaste of Chocolate
“Lily. What are the trees like?”
The two children sat alone under a great oak tree on the playground. All the other kids were gone. They’d found others to run around and play tag with or build small ‘castles’ that looked rather like mounds of dirt. Ethan couldn’t do any of these things, though. He couldn’t see the sunlight or the trees of the ground beneath his feet, not even his mother’s face when she kissed him on the forehead goodnight.
Ethan was blind.
“Trees are magnificent,” Lily began. She didn’t really know how to start. How do you describe something to a person that’s never seen anything? “They have a thick base, it’s called a trunk, which you know, and it’s grey-brown/ That’s the color of a winter day or the sky when it’s sad, that feeling in the air before it rains.” Lily knew she wasn’t making any sense. Her mother told her so, that blurting out the first thing
:iconarisen-arisu:arisen-arisu 28 36
when you write a poem
write a thousand you mean and one
you don't.
keep the ones you do
locked firmly behind the skeletons
crammed into your cupboard,
because when you felt
your heart in freefall, no one warned you
that it would crash
and burn, when it finally fell
all the way down.
:iconsmallsincerities:smallsincerities 23 13
...your struggles have made you wise
when the counsellor tells you your struggles have made you wise...
ask her how useful the knowledge of how many punches it takes to lay you cold on the floor will be in future. ask her if the endless frost that shivers under your fragile skin is going to turn out handy, a free cooling agent in the heated heights of summer. ask her where she was every morning when you took the pills and crumpled the plastic cup pathetic in your fist. ask her about the taste of toothpaste and bile, how she felt when the dentist marked the progression of decay and solemnly warned you to cut down on sweets. ask her how it feels to keep all those suicides filed away in her desk drawer knowing that they were never ‘wise’ enough to see another way out and through. ask her about the first time she drank until she threw up for hours after she’d become sober again because a boy wouldn’t touch her, or a girl wouldn’t give her a second glance. question everything because there&
:iconwander-mind:wander-mind 6 4
Don't be boring
good poem
makes you wish
you had written it.
A bad
restores your faith
in television.
:iconantonfrost:antonfrost 17 17
i keep teetering between fuck you and fuck me
i started writing in pencil again because the mistakes i'm making are bad enough where i actually feel the need to correct them. i started writing in pencil because it's sickening to think i still think i know what i'm doing.
i'm making important decisions under the influence because i'm above sober choices. my head is a much friendlier place after drowning my demons. i'd drown myself in an ocean of vodka or whisky rivers, give me a rum and coke and leave me be. i know how to swim, that doesn't mean i want to.
i don't walk on sidewalks anymore. i tip toe the yellow lines that might lead me away from here, i might end up closer to you. i don't know where i want to be. my feet are weary from the miles and interstates that i have carved into my fragile spirit. the body is willing but mine is too weak to even drag myself out of bed.
after a week away from my bed, my sheets looked like the day you left. i'm beginning to realize it may have been the last time they will see you. i don't
:iconstuff7:stuff7 14 8
Murder Hound
“What should we call the thing?” Sven’s voice is calm despite the presence of the monster in front of him, an entirely alien thing standing on six broad legs and twice the size of himself both in height and width. Shaped like a dog with a long and jagged tail ending in a razor point, a pronounced snout and rows of violent teeth colored dark red. Whether the teeth were always that color or it was a new thing the two men standing before the passed out creature could not say. They both hoped the teeth were always red. Something this large and violent in appearance could only be trouble if it consumed meat and drank blood.
“Vampire dog sounds about right for this thing.” Max says while kicking the creature as it lies passed out in front of the two men.
“No. It’s too on the nose, you know. I was thinking murder hound.” Sven takes a cigarette out from a pack in his pocket, lights it and inhales a long drag only exhaling after casting his gaze t
:iconpopov89:popov89 5 2
I love you
People love to say they have roots
in their native place.
For sure, I know it, no roots I have:
I have an anchor.
I was born by the chants
of Ivory Seagulls.
Bands of flaming lights over marine
waters catched by embracing gulfs.
Early morning’s flaming auroras,
sinuous, sinusoidal.
Pungent saltiness Siroco breeze
you don’t breathe: you Perceive.
By this beautiful harbour, I was born
and with it I share a mystical bond.
When I gaze at its magnificence
opaque views trembling on the surface,
swashing sails cutting through waves,
stolen kisses and lust
Starry skies and milky soffuse moonlights…
I feel that familiar sensation,
my heart stretching and aching
exploding passions falling then rising…
I always break down, crumbling, sinking,
into tidal waves of tears.
This everything lies beneath your Eyes.
And I wasn’t lying
When you heard me say
”I Love You as much as I love the Ocean.”
It is so true that inside I’m terrified,
like I’ve a
:iconhaikwou:Haikwou 9 7
on old sanzu - absolutely true fiction
last fall i stole my friend down by the tama river. we sang. we danced. we skipped dead fish like rocks and watched them get swallowed by the undertow. we got sick off of bad chinese food and went skinny-dipping and then a week later she drowned herself.
her uncle was a yakuza, i think, but he really just wanted to be al pacino or something. anyway, she loved him a lot. maybe that’s why she went down the way she went down; cement shoes. not real cement, but it was the same idea. she had two cloth bags with yellow-painted cinderblocks inside, and they were tied to her ankles like the prisoners’ chains from o brother where art thou.
in my mind’s eye i can see her, limping dreadfully close to the edge of the current, her left hand gripping at her breasts through a loose t-shirt. kneeling by the wastelands, elbows in the gravel, crawling forward out into the water. angry like a dermis under wool, all teeth and salt and sand. sleepy, submissive, sublimated.
and then
:iconmindlessthinker:MindlessThinker 96 31
notes on the budget spending of $1 million
world peace: anger management classes for the middle east;
family counseling for everyone else
a five course meal for the kids on the street corner,
the dissemination of nuclear
knowledge: we are guests in this house
a paper crane factory, where they release our
bottled dreams like songbirds
& we'll smile, teeth or not
silence: a minute of everyone's time, reevaluating the value
of intentional inertia
the reestablishment of earthen infrastructure, grounded
in the support of baby steps
(to rise from the crawl)
fresh flowers for the broken hearted lovers, a keg
for every funeral
a cape for the kids who think they can fly, a new pair of track
spikes for the ones who think they can't
public library chains in the forest, in alpine tree houses
self guided tour services for the unspecified oblivion, refunds
if you ask nicely
a getaway car with a full tank of kerosene, as on fire as your heart
to take the scenic route,
find places far from home to ge
:iconsuccesswithhonor:successwithhonor 29 12
When you left
This house
Walking without turning
You forgot your
Sweatshirt hanging on the bedpost
And tennis shoes with the socks still in them
Climbing up the stairs
You forgot your smell
And the hum of your voice
You forgot to take away
The taste of your cooking
Or the lump of your blanket
On the couch
You forgot the curves of your face
In photographs on the bookshelf
And your muddy footprints in the backyard
You forgot to take the ring
Of your guitar playing in the hallways
Now you have left me
With clutter that only reminds
Like this house I am full
Of curtains, tables, beds,
Chairs, pictures, carpets
Full of memories that have no more use
Than tombstones
They only exist to show
What is no longer here
:iconundomiel321:Undomiel321 26 40
Poetry Analysis
I was given poetry
 Told to pin
her arms and legs
down on my paper;
 college ruled
Dissect Her
It's procedure
 Take my pen & tear her open
Expose her limbs
And rearrange her vertebrae
 to fit my selfish needs
 But what the teacher doesn't know
is I already let mine escape
Clutching to the secrets
 that still remain inside her
          Where they belong
:iconastergirl:AsterGirl 55 33
Frozen Tangled Guardians_alternative story by Milady666 Frozen Tangled Guardians_alternative story :iconmilady666:Milady666 7,855 787 The Duel by asiapasek The Duel :iconasiapasek:asiapasek 73 22
When You're Gone
Wet pillowcases. Sleepless nights.
               Without you
:iconasterlia:Asterlia 11 5
Calvin and Hobbes by seangordonmurphy Calvin and Hobbes :iconseangordonmurphy:seangordonmurphy 931 77



That's right, guys! Tomorrow we start week two!

Now this doesn't mean that you can't submit a selfie. We'll still spread the word around and all, so if you haven't finished yet, don't freak out.

BUT it would be super cool if we could get ten participants in the first week. We've got eight people who did something so far, so if you wanted to do something, just you and one other person would make ten! 

C'mon, please? DA has almost no participation.


Kat Errickson
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
I like to read, and write, though most of my writing doesn't end up on here. I'm a grammar nazi and proud of it, and I enjoy drawing. My biggest fandom is the Sisters Grimm

Current Residence: New Jersey
Favourite genre of music: Rock/metal or alt
Favourite style of art: manga/traditional
Operating System: PC
MP3 player of choice: whatever I can afford
Favourite cartoon character: Wile E. Coyote
Personal Quote: He wasn't trying to kill himself, he was just trying to relieve the pressure!


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IndigoFantasia Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2016
Free Birthday Icon 
Moonbeam566747 Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2016
DNA-The-Authoress Featured By Owner Apr 25, 2016
Happy early birthday, Beautiful! Love you and miss you and hope life is treating you well! <3
kittay123 Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2016   Filmographer
hi how are you and plus how old are you
curlscat Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2016  Student Writer
Um I'm 22 why
kittay123 Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2016   Filmographer
I was wondering my brain wanted to know
DNA-The-Authoress Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2016
Thanks for the fave, Lovely! How've you been?
curlscat Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2016  Student Writer

I've been okay. Crazy busy. You?
DNA-The-Authoress Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2016
Crazy busy with work and prepping for this internship, and also getting over a sickness.
curlscat Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2016  Student Writer
Fun fun fun
(1 Reply)
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